


Tornado Warning

by nirejseki



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Henry Allen dies instead of Nora, M/M, No policeman is every your friend once you've been arrested, Nora Allen is a Badass, Not Favorable to Joe West, no dead moms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 11:59:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11207634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nirejseki/pseuds/nirejseki
Summary: Nora Allen doesn't know where the man in yellow, the man in the lightning, came from, but he killed her beloved Henry right in front of her and she knows deep in her gut that he's after her beautiful baby Barry.There is no way in hell she's going to let that happen.





	Tornado Warning

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Barry's dad dies instead of his mom

It happened in a flash.

She remembers every second.

She doubts every one of those seconds. 

She came home late, driving home on instinct in the dark - she'd been worried about picking up the dry cleaning in time and whether the milk had already expired, whether Barry would want pancakes tonight for the millionth time, a dozen ultimately unimportant things - she'd settled in at home, kicked off her shoes, walked in humming - 

And then he attacked.

At least, she thinks it was a him. Crackling lightning, a whirlwind, a figure surrounded by light, blurred too fast to see -

She screamed, she'd been screaming -

Barry ran downstairs -

Henry had been there, Henry turned to him at the doorway, Henry told him to run -

_Run, Barry, run!_

Barry had run, but in another flash of light, Barry hadn't just run, Barry had _disappeared_ \- the man screamed in rage - he was after Barry, then, after her baby, and she realized it at the same moment that he blurred again, grabbing the knife from the kitchen and lunging at her -

_This is not how I should die_ , she remembers thinking, a single moment of clarity in the terror.

And it wasn't, though sometimes she wishes it was.

The man - the _creature_ \- was fast, but Henry was already leaping towards her, she reaching for him, and she caught his hands and pulled him towards her, through the whirlwind around her -

And the knife meant for her struck him, instead.

She screamed again.

No - not Henry - no!

The man in yellow disappeared. 

"You have to hold the knife in," Henry gasped, blood bubbling on his lips, always the level-headed surgeon, the mild-mannered man she'd fallen in love with in college, never losing his head no matter what. "Only chance not to bleed out - Nora - Nora, I love you -"

"I love you," she whispered. "Henry - Henry -"

That was how the police found her.

\--

It takes her unforgivably long to realize the police weren't on her side.

She'd known that, of course she had - she was a college professor, for heaven's sake; you think she wasn't hip to how the police state wasn't necessarily friendly once you were in custody?

_No one says "hip" anymore_ , Henry's voice in her head reminds her, warm and loving as always.

That was the only voice of his she'd ever hear again, now. He died on the way to the hospital. 

They didn't tell her the entire time she was at the station, no matter how she'd begged to hear if he was all right. If Barry was all right. 

Instead, they handed her a cup of coffee and let her dry her eyes (a hopeless task) and they started asking her questions. 

It wasn't until the questions started turning to her and Henry's personal life - if they fought, if there were marital problems, bizarre questions that she couldn't understand the purpose of - that she'd remembered herself and asked for a lawyer.

"Don't see why you'd need one," Fred said genially. It's Fred Chyre - Joe's partner. Joe's here, too. Joe was Henry's friend, as far back as college; they'd bonded over their interest in blues and jazz. Since Nora was utterly uninterested - _my tone-deaf little pigeon_ , Henry's voice laughed in her ear - she'd been happy to let Joe be Henry's plus-one for all of those events, while she went out with her own friends. It worked well for them. "Is there a problem with us asking about your relationship with Henry?"

"What?" she asked, blinking. It hadn't been that at all, honestly; she'd just recovered from her shock enough to remember the lessons of her childhood: _always ask for a lawyer_. "Oh, no, nothing at all. I just remembered that I hadn't asked for one yet. I think I have a number - I can call one myself and explain, if it's easier, or we could ask for a public defender for the time being -"

"Introducing a lawyer just makes this whole process more difficult," Fred said, shaking his head. "I mean, you have the right to one, of course, but it'd be so much easier to figure this out if they weren't involved - they always muck things up, you know, lawyers, with all their fiddly technicalities - and we all really want to catch the person who did this to Henry and put him or her behind bars -"

"Him or her?" she asked, frowning. "I already told you - it was a man - there was a whirlwind - lightning -"

"Yes, you told us about that. Why don't we talk about the last few weeks instead?" Fred suggested. "You and Henry were arguing, weren't you?"

"What? No," she replied, and that's when she noticed how fixed his smile was, how cold. "No, don't be absurd - wait. You don't - do you think _I_ had something to do with it?"

"We're not saying anything," Joe said.

"Was Henry ever abusive?" Fred asked, oozing sympathy. "Is that what happened?"

"What?!" she exclaimed. "What are you - _Henry_ abusive - I don't – why are you even _asking_ that?!"

"We understand you recently had a miscarriage," Fred said.

Nora went still and cold, all of a sudden. "Who told you that?"

Fred went silent, but the way his posture shifted towards Joe was damning.

"That is private information," Nora said through numb lips. Henry and Joe were close; of course Henry would have mentioned it to him, how hard they'd been trying to give Barry a little brother or sister, how they were grieving together. But that Joe would mention it onwards, to people she barely knew like Fred Chyre? That was unforgiveable. "And _irrelevant_. Joe, what's the meaning of all these questions?"

"We just want to know what happened," Joe told her. His face is unfeeling.

"But - asking about my miscarriage? Asking if Henry was _abusive_? Damnit, Joe; Henry’s your best friend!"

"Yeah," Joe said, his face twisting, ugly with rage. "And you killed him, you bitch."

Nora rocked back in her seat as if she'd been hit.

Fred turned an annoyed glare on Joe, his friendly façade cracking to reveal irritation. "Damnit, Joe, if you can't stick to goddamn script, you can't sit in on the investigation, you know that -"

There was a _script_.

They were trying to pin Henry's murder on her.

Oh, Nora knew all about policemen and their scripts, their nice and tidy little friendly faces that smiled even as they noted down the words they would use against you, uncovering the private facts of your life in their quest for an easy arrest and a quick end to the whole affair. She knows all about how innocent men and women go to jail over fudged evidence and good-enough-for-conviction circumstances, especially when one of the police decided he had it in for you and that it was your fault. She knows all about it. 

And she will be damned if that happens to her without a fight.

Henry's best friend or not. 

"I think," Nora said very carefully, "that I'd like to see my lawyer now."

And that's almost all she said for the next four hours, ignoring every petition and threat and wheedling they did to try to make her forget about the request, until they finally gave in and got her one.

The only other thing she asked for in those hours was to know if Henry was all right.

If Barry, her baby, her precious wonderful baby, was all right, if he'd been hurt, if something had happened to him -

They refused to tell her until the very end. 

Nora Allen is still very angry about that. 

\--

The first lawyer she gets – and she has the money for one, thank god, and she’s never been happier to be a middle-class white woman in her life, as depressing as it is to have to think about things like that – tells her that the evidence doesn’t look good and suggests that she plead domestic abuse as the cause for the murder, accepting a plea deal that was more punishment than anything else.

She fires that one and gets another.

The second lawyer says the same thing, more or less, but that she’ll do her best to fight if that’s what Nora wants. It is. Nora’s going to fight this all the way to the bitter end if she has to. 

Henry wasn't abusive, and she won't say that he was to knock ten years off a sentence she shouldn't be serving at all. 

The second lawyer also says that there’s something fishy about how they’re doing the prosecution. 

That part makes Nora actually sit down and listen.

“They’re pushing too hard,” the lawyer tells her. “They’re going to offer you another deal.”

“I already told you, I don’t want a deal!”

“We’re going to listen to the deal,” the lawyer says implacably. “Because just knowing what the deal is will tell us loads about how much they think they have against us – and why they’re so goddamn eager to close a case involving the death of a generally beloved but otherwise not well known surgeon. It's not like this is a big deal, all the papers and televisions talking about it; yeah, it's a matter of discussion, but it's not a 24/7 media circus. So why are they trying to close it so quick?”

Nora bites her lips, but nods.

She tells her lawyer about Joe, about how he irrationally blames her for it, and her lawyer nods thoughtfully.

"That might do it," she says critically. "We might be able to use that. Let's see how this goes."

The deal, when it comes, is –

Nora is very happy for all of those years of work at the college, all that training in keeping a straight face when people say stupid stuff (students, yes, but especially other staff), because otherwise she would be losing her temper. 

“I’m sorry,” she says very politely when they’re done, the assistant district attorney and Joe, sitting side by side across the table in front of her. “I’m not sure I understand. You want me to plead guilty, go to jail for at least twenty or thirty years, and I’m supposed to accept this offer…why, exactly?”

“You have family to think of, Nora,” Joe says. He sounds reasonable. He always sounds reasonable, except for that one little reveal he'd had in the investigation room – the ugly anger that lurks there, sorrow for Henry mixing in with anger at her, _blaming_ her. Worst of all, Nora knows why he does, and it has nothing to do with her at all - they always got along fine, both of them loving Henry more than each other, but a nice cordial relationship nevertheless. No, this is all about Joe and Francine, and how he hates her for abandoning him and Iris, how he blames her for everything. This is all of that coming out and aimed at her like a gun. It's unprofessional, that's what it is. “You need to think about your family. What about Barry?”

“What about Barry?” she asks. “I was under the impression that he’s at a foster home right now, at least until the trial is over.”

She'd never regretted not having a larger family more. They were all dead and gone, both hers and Henry's parents, and none of them had anyone else. They'd had each other and thought that was enough. 

“He is,” Joe says. “But the foster system - well, it's a very harsh place, Nora. Very hard on kids, going from one house to another, jumping school districts in the middle of the year. You don’t want him to live the rest of his life among strangers, alone.”

“So if I accept this deal –”

“We’ll make sure he’s placed somewhere nearby, somewhere safe and stable, with people who love him –”

“People like you, you mean,” Nora says, getting it. 

Her lawyer is silent, watching, vigilant in case Nora says anything amiss.

They both see Joe blink, taken aback, like he thought she wouldn’t see what he’s doing. Joe always did think he was a reasonable man, even when he was being incredibly unreasonable. He'd always thought he was sneakier than he really was, too. “Of course,” he says, rallying. “You and Henry always said that if something happened to you –”

“Consider that revoked,” Nora says harshly. “I wouldn’t give you permission to raise Barry if you were the last man on earth.”

Joe has the audacity to look _surprised_ , like he thought she would just – go along with it. 

Henry probably would’ve, but Henry’s a bit of a pushover, especially where Barry is concerned. Nora was always the one who imposed discipline in their family. 

“Nora –” Joe starts.

Nora smiles. 

It’s not a nice smile.

"Firstly," she says, "I believe it would be more appropriate for you to call me Mrs. Allen."

He flinches. Still surprised by her audacity to question the righteous Joseph West's judgment call.

Still ashamed, just a little, by the reminder that she was the one Henry had chosen to wed and that she claimed his name as her own. 

“Secondly,” she says to her lawyer, “I think that I want to sue.”

“I think,” her lawyer says, “that I agree. We can file against the city, the DA's office, and the CCPD -”

“Wait, wait, wait,” the ADA running the case says, holding up her hands. “Sue? On what basis?”

“Malicious prosecution,” Nora’s lawyer says. Nora likes how slick and hard and professional she is. “A policeman who’s friends with the victim shouldn’t be involved with assisting the DA's office in prosecuting the case. Gives rise to questions about revenge as the motive for pushing it so hard."

"This is not about revenge -" the ADA starts.

"It's especially inappropriate," the lawyer continues, undeterred, "when the city starts mixing in questions about adopting children with a prosecution. Especially when the policeman pushing the conviction is also the one potentially adopting the defendant's child - and even more especially when it's one with a convicted felon for a wife.”

“A _what_?!” the ADA exclaims. She scoots a little away from Joe.

They’d been sitting pretty close, Nora notes. She recalls now that Joe had mentioned something about having a bit of an office romance with one of the DAs; this must be the one. 

“You never did file for divorce from Francine West,” Nora’s lawyer says. “You’re a married man, Detective, and she’s a felon who still technically has rights to your house. That means it’s not a safe environment for children who might be exposed to a repeated drug addict, a potentially dangerous one.”

“Now wait a minute –” Joe starts.

“You go anywhere near my Barry,” Nora says to Joe, very sweetly. “And I will make sure Iris knows every last lie you’ve ever fed her, you son of a bitch.”

“Maybe we should have this conversation without you, Detective West,” the ADA says, clearly realizing that she’s made a terrible mistake in thinking that Joe’s presence would make Nora more susceptible to simply taking the deal.

“But –”

“ _Now_ , Joe!”

Joe goes.

The ADA turns back to them.

“My client is not pleading guilty,” Nora’s lawyer tells her. “My client is, however, going to be going to the press and explain in explicit detail exactly how the CCPD and the DA’s office have conspired to bully her into giving up her parental rights and freedom just because they can’t be bothered to actually do their jobs.”

“I’ll be sure to mention the fact that you’re dating Joe,” Nora says, watching the ADA rear back in alarm even as her own lawyer’s eyebrows shoot up. “The newspapers do love a good public corruption case.”

“It’s hardly corruption,” the ADA says stiffly, but she knows it doesn’t look good. Not when Joe's helping her prosecute this case, and is moving to adopt Nora's child. 

It looks a lot like child-stealing, to be honest. And as much as Nora hates it, hates how dirty it makes her feel to even think about it, she is, in the end, still a middle-class white woman, with all the privileges that affords her. She’ll be a sympathetic guest on every talk show in the country within days - the right-wing ones, because Joe's a black male carrying a gun, and the left-wing ones, because Joe's a policeman, and in any case she will accuse him of trying to steal her baby away in every court of opinion that will have her. 

To save her baby, Nora is going to use every last weapon she has and stain her soul as black as she has to. To save her Barry from a life without her, she'll do anything. 

“If you have the evidence to go out and fight me in court, let’s do it,” Nora says, her fingers interlaced in her lap to hide how white her knuckles are. “Because I promise you, I will make this as nasty and dirty a fight as I need to, because I am not letting you touch a goddamn hair on my baby’s head.”

“You’ll lose,” the ADA says. 

“So be it,” Nora replies. Most criminals who insist on going to trial do; her lawyer warned her of that. But she can't go down without a fight. It's not in her. Henry was the kindness in the family, the sweetness, the desire to do good in this world; Nora was the implacable stubbornness, the insistent optimism, the fierce conviction that if you are right then you must prevail by whatever means you need to do it. “But by god, I will drag down as many of you as I can with me.”

“The evidence is all against you,” the ADA says, crossing her arms.

“The evidence,” Nora’s lawyer says. “The evidence initially collected by – Detective Joe West, correct? The same one applying for custody of my client’s son?”

The ADA bites her lip. “There’s nothing to support your theory that it was a third party attacker.”

“It is not a theory,” Nora says. “It’s a fact.”

“Your son thinks he saw a man in yellow in the lightning,” the ADA says. 

Nora arches her eyebrows. “So you’re telling me that you have two witnesses to my side of the story.”

“A man in _lightning_ ,” the ADA emphasizes. “That sounds crazy.”

“What sounds crazier,” Nora’s lawyer says, “the idea that an eleven year old boy added in lightning to a story about a third party, a man in yellow, attacking his beloved father, or the idea that my client – without having spoken to her son once, a _blatant_ breach of her rights as his parent – somehow fed him a stupid story that would clearly not survive scrutiny?”

The ADA grits her teeth.

Nora Allen was born and raised in Central City, with its rough and tumble politics, with its corruption, with its slums and its gangs and its organized crime. She is nothing like her soft-hearted husband, raised in softer, friendlier places; Joe was always closer to Henry than to her, and he underestimated her. They all underestimated her. 

“I want to see my son,” Nora tells the ADA. “ _Now_.”

They continue to refuse to let them see each other, but in the end they drop the charges before Nora’s final trial date rather than risk a down and dirty battle, and that means they have to let her go, and once they let her go, they have no reason to keep Barry from her. 

He runs into his arms, crying, and she holds him close and swears to Henry’s ghost that she will never let anyone hurt him.

Not least of all the man in yellow, the man in the lightning. He’s still out there.

And he’s still after Barry.

Nora’s sure of it.

\--

Nora starts by moving back to her old neighborhood, the one she grew up in before Great Uncle Wilbur died and left her family enough money to get her a ticket to Columbia and a brand new life. 

Also got her dad a one-way ticket to enough liquor to go into the grave, of course, and her mom following shortly thereafter for lack of people to yell at since Nora wouldn't put up with it, but there are still enough people around the old place that remember them.

"Eleanora!" old Grissom shouts happily from his porch. He probably hasn't moved from that place since she left for college. "And you brought your young 'un, too!"

"Barry's my boy, Griss," she says. "Barry, this is Grissom. Yes, that’s his real name; just like the TV show. He's awful and he smells."

Barry giggles. 

"Is he the one you said babysat you when you were a kid?" he asks shyly. 

"That's right, my beautiful baby boy," Nora says, petting his hair. "And now he's gonna help babysit you while Mommy runs some errands, okay?"

"I hope you like Star Trek, m'boy," Grissom tells Barry. "It's the only thing I've got. But I do got lots of it, and it's all courtesy of your mum."

"I like Star Trek," Barry confirms.

"Then go inside and see if you can get the old box to work," Grissom says. "Not saying there's no cookies in it for you if you can..."

Barry yips happily and runs inside.

"And what can I do for you, Eleanora?" Grissom asks, smile fading into something more serious. "Heard the pigs did you wrong in the end, even after you got that fancy degree and everything."

Nora shrugs. "Central City doesn't forgive or forget easy," she says. "And neither do I."

Grissom's eyebrows go up just a fraction, which is all the surprise she gets for that particular turn of phrase. "Murder for hire's a tough line, Eleanora. You sure you're ready for that?"

"Way I see it, I don't have much of a choice," Nora says. "Can you get me some names?"

"Depends on who you want done in," Grissom replies. "That cop that turned on you and yours?"

"No, not him," Nora says. "It's a little more complicated than that."

Grissom tilts his head in silent question. 

"I'm gonna need someone real good," she says. She's been back in the neighborhood for less than a day and she can feel her vowels and subjects and adverbs sloughing off back into the gutter. "Best of the best. And not just a two-bit shooter, neither. I need a brain to crack a puzzle, hands to do what's needed, and -" She hesitates for a second. "And I need someone to burn the fucker to the ground."

Grissom nods slowly. 

"Might be a long term job," she warns. 

"Might be expensive," he shoots back.

"I'll pay," she says. "Cash, favors, whatever."

"Why's it so important?" 

"Because the fucker's after my Barry, Griss. He's killed my husband and he's ruined my life and he's _after my baby boy_. You get me, Griss? For this, I'll pay anything."

He nods slowly. 

"Can you get me what I need?" she asks.

"Yeah," he says. "I'll get you what you need."

"Good," Nora says. "Good."

And then she goes out to buy groceries.

After all, she has a growing boy to feed. He’ll probably want pancakes, Nora reflects. That’s his go-to comfort food. 

\--

"So let me get this straight," the man drawls, long and low and Central City bred so deep in his bones that Nora wonders if they played together as children. "You want me to find a man who runs like lightning, who may as may not exist, who disappeared into the air, who you think _might_ be after your boy." 

Nora nods. It's a hard story to swallow. She wouldn't be surprised if the man threw it back in her face.

The men. There are two of them, one larger than the other, looks like a thug, but Nora's no slouch. She can see the intelligence glinting in their eyes.

She's done her research. The finest thief Central City's produced in two generations, ever since the great Kitt kicked the bucket back in the '40s, and his partner the arsonist. 

Man like that doesn't partner with a dumb thug, though, so she’ll not be underestimating either of them. 

"You have any evidence this man'll be back?" the man asks.

"Nothing but the rage in his scream when my son ran where he couldn't find 'em," Nora says. Her face and voice are calm, but her hands are gripped under the table and her knuckles are white.

She asked for the best of the best. This is them, without a doubt. If they say no, she'll go forward, she'll get others. But they won't be the best.

She wants the best.

"Will you do it?" she asks. 

He hums. 

She stays silent, waits. 

"You're gonna need to put up with us for the long haul," he says. "We're not signing up for full time bodyguarding gig, mind you, but there's no guarantee your man won't wait a good long while before giving it another shot."

Nora swallows. "You're saying yes."

She almost can't believe it.

Her story is - unbelievable. She knows that. Intuition and a mother's instinct; nothing of the sort that these criminals work with. Nothing but smoke and fantasy.

But he's saying yes.

Leonard Snart smiles. His teeth glint in the light. "I like a challenge."

\--

Nora wasn't entirely sure what she was expecting, but two notorious criminals coming home with her and making dinner wasn't it.

She's not about to let Mick-Fireball-Rory alone in her kitchen alone, though; she hovers over him for a few hours until she realizes that was sort of the point, because she hasn't seen hide nor hair Snart in those few hours.

When she looks for him, she hears them. 

Snart's upstairs. Barry's room.

He's sitting on the bed, feet up, boots on the bed like the mannerless boor he is. Barry's beside him, feet also up, arms wrapped around his knees. 

"- and that's all I remember," Barry's saying. 

"That's all you think you remember," Snart corrects. "I bet you there's more you haven't thought of – the feel of the air, the smells, everything. We'll work through it, though; no need to worry now."

"You're gonna catch him, though, right? You're gonna catch the guy that killed my dad?"

"I'm gonna do my best," Snart says. "And my best is pretty good."

"But what if he doesn't come back, not for years and years?"

"Then we'll be keeping an eye out for you," Snart says. "For years and years, if that's what it takes. And for what it's worth, kid - it's gonna be in the next six months, or it's gonna be years and years, as you put it."

Barry wrinkles his nose when he frowns. "Why?"

"Two types of people in this world, kid. Thinkers and doers. One type, the thinkers, they plan shit out. They over-think shit. They're paranoid. They go into contingencies. But doers? Doers are different. They don't pause, they don't think, they just do. So if they're a doer, it'll be in the next few months. If they're a thinker, it'll be years. But it's one or the other. Never both."

Barry nods. Nora can see his back straighten, his shoulders broaden. He's being talked to like an adult and he recognizes it. "So depending on what he does, we'll know more about him."

Snart points at him. "Exactly." 

"How do you deal with him?" Barry asks. "Either way?"

"By being better at it than he is," Snart says. "I'm a thinker. My partner, he's a doer. We're real good at what we do, and we balance each other out. We'll out-think the bastard from both sides. Now, I make no promises, kid. Life ain't certain. But we'll do our best and our best is damn good." Snart turns to look at Barry. "But I need you do something for me, kid. I need _your_ best, too. I can only do so much; if you're the target, kid, then the rest of the heavy lifting, I need you for. Can you do that?"

Barry looks at Snart, and Nora can tell that he believes him. Nora can tell that he believes him, believes in him, for the first time since it happened. For the first time since Henry died, she sees hope in her son's eyes. She sees her beautiful baby boy smile with hope and faith and joy, and mean it. Just like he used to. Henry's faith and goodness, her endless stubbornness and strength, together in one. 

"Yes, Mr. Snart," he says. "I'll do that."

Snart makes a face. "Not 'Mr. Snart'," he says. "Snart. Or Len, if you like."

"Thanks, Len," Barry says. His face is glowing like the sun. 

Nora sighs. She supposes that means Snart and Rory are sticking around.

She turns around and goes back to the kitchen, where Rory has miraculously failed to light her kitchen on fire.

Dinner is delicious. 

(Mick lights the stove on fire making dessert, but Nora still considers it a win.)

\--

The man doesn't come in six months. 

"Planner, then," Len says. "Give him time. We'll be around."

They play the long game, instead. It's fine - it's good, even. Barry gets to go to school. Gets to grow up. High school. College.

He remains friends with Iris West, magically enough. Nora never forgives Joe West for not siding with her, of course; Barry is never permitted to go home with Iris, though Iris is always welcome at theirs.

Iris protests about the injustice of it once. Age 17.

Nora tells her the entire story, from beginning - Henry's friendship with Joe, back in college - to the end. She uses no emotion, tells it as dispassionately as she can, but she leaves nothing out.

_Nothing_.

"Francine?" Iris says haltingly. "My - my mother? She - she died when I was six."

Nora says nothing.

"Didn't she?"

"I'm only telling you what happened," Nora says. "I owe your father nothing, but you aren't him, so I don't mean to hurt you. But you are seventeen years old. You can decide to do with the information what you like with it."

"How do I know you're not lying?" Iris demands. "You hate my dad, you've hated him ever since -"

"That's true," Nora says, and thinks that Henry would never have done what she is doing, but she likes to think Joe wouldn't have blamed Henry, if she were the one who was dead. That they were better friends than that - worthy at least of the benefit of the doubt, instead of the policeman's immediate assumption of guilt. But she isn't Henry. Not at all. "I do. But you don't need to believe me, Iris. Just look up Francine West in Keystone City. Or perhaps she's going by her maiden name -"

"No," Barry says quietly from the door. "I asked Uncle Len to do a bit of research for me - for you, Iris. She's going by West. I have an address, if you want it."

"You knew?" Iris whispers.

"I asked you if you wanted to know a secret that was being kept from you," Barry says, clearly referring to an old discussion because Iris nods. "You said if your dad didn't want you to know, you'd rather wait for him to tell you. So I didn't. And I waited - and waited - and waited -"

"He was never going to tell me," Iris says. "Was he?"

"Maybe," Nora says, giving Joe that little bit of grace, parent to parent, even though personally she thinks Joe would've waited it out until Francine was buried in the ground and then sighed in relief that his life was never found out. "But you're right, Iris. I hate him. So unlike you, I'm not going to respect his wishes and help him lie to you. Good luck."

After it all passes over - well, after Iris has successfully applied for early placement at her university and is no longer speaking to Joe, anyway - Joe storms up to Nora, spitting accusations. 

Nora warns him, twice, to go away.

He doesn't.

She punches him in the face.

"Maybe next time," she says to him, sitting on his ass, blinking in disbelief, "you'll learn that lies aren't a valid life strategy - either for parenting or for policing. Come near me ever again and so help me, I will slap a restraining order on your ass, and I'll go to your boss to get it if I have to."

Mick gives her a high five.

Barry gives her a dirty look.

(Iris calls her and tells her that it was very not nice, but also good for her - and would Nora like to meet her newly-found brother?)

Nora's pretty sure they'll make up eventually - Joe's an ass and Nora's never going to forgive him, but Iris West's a bigger person than that, even if the treatments she's going through to help save her mother's life are taking their toll - but until then, she'll welcome Wally West to her dinner table and watch Barry's awkward flirting dance with Iris get even more awkward with the addition of a younger brother peanut gallery. 

\--

"Something's wrong," Mick says. 

Len's fingers are drumming ceaselessly on the table. He and Mick are tense right now, after that big fire and the ensuing fight they had, but they're still together. Not all the time, no, they're still bitter and sore, but a thinker like Len knows he needs a doer like Mick to keep him in check and Mick -

Well, Mick just knows what he knows. He feels what he feels. He does what he does.

And when he says something's wrong, something that Len hasn't spotted, he's always right.

"Given that you're at my table, I'm not surprised," Nora says dryly. She organizes her papers - she works at a private company, now, Mercury Labs, instead of at a college. Too much scandal to continue being a college professor, but there's always work for a chemist. Barry took after her and went to college for chemistry - she'd always rather hoped he'd make a late break for pre-med, but that wasn't to be - and now he was working as a CSI at the CCPD. 

Joe recommended him. Probably Iris' urging - he and Nora would never get along, even if their kids were probably going to end up married to each other, but he was at least mature enough to put it aside to help Barry. 

He hadn't had much of a choice, now that Iris was working as a cop, too, following her childhood dream over his attempts to sabotage her. 

It did make the CCPD staff-and-family barbecues awkward, though. Nora attends every single one of them, smiling at all the veteran CCPD officers that flinch when she walks by. 

("You're a magnificent troll," David Singh tells her when she delivers cupcakes to his office to congratulate him on his promotion. "I admire your devotion to the art."

"Living well is the best revenge," Nora tells the one cop that refused to assist in her prosecution.

"Damn right," he says, and takes a cupcake.)

"Do you know what's wrong?" she asks.

"If I did, Snart would've planned for it already," Mick grumbles. He rubs at his eyes. "City feels wrong."

"He's right," Len says abruptly. "Something in the air. Wrong. Out of balance. Like a tornado warning, you can taste it in the air."

Mick nods. "It's coming."

"All the people in town are antsy," Barry says, voice tinny from the speakerphone on the table. He was still on the train back from Starling - one of his investigations into the supernatural. "Everyone who was born in Central can feel it. I don't know why, but petty crimes are way up recently."

Nora nods. She'd hissed at the person who cut her off at the grocery store - actually hissed - and they'd snarled back. That wasn't normal.

Tornado warning indeed.

"Do we think this is the man in yellow?" she asks Len and Mick. She can't imagine why else they're here.

Mick shakes his head. "Not unless he's involving the whole city in what he's up to."

"Which he might be," Len says. "He wants something."

His fingers keep drumming on the table. 

"I've heard about him," he adds. "A few sightings, nothing concrete. But he's out there, our man of yellow and lightning. More sightings in the last few months than for years before - he's building something."

Barry sighs. "My train from Starling comes in this evening," he says. "Gonna try to make the STAR Labs opening ceremony, but I'll probably be too late, so I'll go to the office and take a look at the statistics again."

"You do that, BA," Mick grunts. He rubs at his eyes again. He looks tired; his eyes keep drooping. "Be careful."

Len's fingers keep drumming on the table.

"Will do, Mick," Barry says. "Anyway, we're about to hit a tunnel. I'll tell you all about my trip when I get home."

He hangs up.

"Something's wrong," Mick says. He's slurring. "Something - Barry -"

He slumps over onto the table, starting to snore.

Len's fingers stop drumming.

"You drugged him," Nora observes. It took her too long to figure out, but that was what always happened with Len's plans; she didn't take it personally anymore.

"Something's wrong in the city," Len says. "He should be somewhere safe till it blows over. Him and Lisa, and Lisa at least agreed to go out of town."

"He'll be pissed at you going after Scudder and Dillon by yourself."

Len shrugs. "I need to work," he says. "Keep busy. Something's going to happen to my city, Nora, and it's aimed right at Barry. I'm good, but I'm a thief. I can stop a man. I can't stop a nuke."

"I don't expect you to," Nora says, thinking that he was exaggerating.

When STAR Labs went up, only hours later, she realizes he hadn't been. 

\--

Barry does not wake up in STAR Labs, nine months later, to friendly strangers looking down at him.

No.

He wakes up in his own bed at home, in the downstairs bedroom next to the kitchen so Nora could keep an eye on him even when she was cooking or working from home - she'd gone on FMLA leave when it had happened, of course, but she was back at least part-time now. Tina was happy to let her work from home when she was doing non-lab stuff, and half the neighborhood was willing to take turns watching over Barry for the times that Nora did need to be in the lab.

That horrible man over at STAR Labs had been pushing her to let him take Barry in since day one, offering to treat him since the hospital didn't know what to do with a boy who had no heartbeat but still kept breathing. She would've thought that he would've gotten over her refusal by now.

"I want to help undo the damage I've done," Dr. Wells said that first time, his blue eyes sharp under his glasses. "Please, Mrs. Allen. I may be able to do something to help young Mr. Allen."

Nora swiped at her streaming eyes. "What's your success rate?"

He paused. "What?"

"Success rate," she repeated. "What facilities do you have? What staff? Have you been rated by the review boards? What other patients have you taken in?"

"I think you misunderstood me, Mrs. Allen," Dr. Wells said carefully. "I'm not a hospital - just a scientist."

"Yes, a physicist, I know," Nora replied. "I've read your book -" It'd been funny, actually; the man's ghostwriter had been an arrogant snot. She hoped it was a ghostwriter, anyway. "- and I know your resume. You're not a medical doctor, so I assumed that you're helping the victims by setting up a clinic."

"As a man of science, I think I can help Mr. Allen in a more individual -"

"A man of the _wrong type_ of science," Nora said, stressing the words. "Dr. Wells, I'm a chemist myself. I'm not a rube off the street you can wow with fancy science words. I want verifiable facts. Records. Statistics. What's your success rate for the individuals you've taken in so far, that you think you can help Barry?"

Dr. Wells doesn't respond immediately, a considering look in his eyes.

Fine.

She looked around and - "You there."

The young man with the long hair, one of the two people that had come in with Dr. Wells, was investigating the hospital’s machinery and took a second to realize she was talking to him. He blinked. "Uh, me?"

"Yes, you. You're with Dr. Wells, correct?"

"Uh, yeah. My name's Cisco. Ramon. I mean, Cisco Ramon. Hi. Nice to meet you." He stuck out his hand. "You're the mom of the guy we're taking back with us, right?"

Nora's eyebrows went up. "Now that's presumptuous of you," she said. "What's your staff? I'd heard STAR Labs was down to a skeleton crew."

Cisco stuttered, glancing between her and Wells. "Uh, yeah, I mean, it's me and Caitlin and Dr. Wells, really -"

"Three people," Nora said flatly. "And what's your degree in, Mr. Ramon?"

"...mechanical engineering?"

"And yours, Ms...?"

"Snow," the blond girl said, wringing her hands. "Caitlin Snow. I am a doctor, actually. Internal medicine and nutrition, secondary degree in biochemical analysis."

Nora squinted at her. "What hospital did you intern at?"

"CCN for my residency, ma'am."

"And you're a private doctor now?"

"Not many places hire after you've been at STAR," Caitlin said shyly.

"Not many physics labs need a doctor," Nora said. "So you're the only doctor to - how many patients?"

Caitlin looked surprised. "Uh, well," she said. "I mean..."

"Your son would be the first," Dr. Wells cut in smoothly. Too smoothly. "Mrs. Allen -"

"I'm sorry, but no," she said. "My son will not be the guinea pig to your attempts at philanthropy or forgiveness or whatever the hell you're doing this for. Thank you for your kind offer. Please go away now."

They'd gone, but Wells kept coming back. 

He was more aggressive, too. 

“It’s a pity you won’t let us treat him,” he said sorrowfully. “I’m just trying to make good what I’ve done, a moment of penance –”

“Are you a religious man, Dr. Wells?” Nora interrupted.

“Why - no, not particularly. Why do you ask?”

“Because I’m not your priest,” she said. “And I’m not your shrink, either. I don’t have to listen to you be sorry about anything. Go away.”

He went.

"Hospital stays are expensive, Mrs. Allen," he said the next time, oozing with sympathy. "I'd be happy to take him pro bono -"

Nora handed him a card.

"What's this?"

"I think it's called a GoFundMe," Nora said. "I'm raising money for Barry's care. Since you care about the financial burden so much, I'm happy to give you an opportunity to donate. But he's not going to your facility."

Wells left again. He was getting worse at hiding his annoyance.

"I'm starting to think he's going to steal Barry from the hospital if I keep saying no," she told Len, who is still recuperating from the ass-kicking Mick had given him over the 'drugged me to avoid putting me in danger for the explosion' incident. Though they had at least started sleeping together again, at least.

Men. Nora will never understand them. 

Len blinked owlishly at her. "Move him home, then," he suggested, like it was obvious.

"I couldn't -"

"Hospital themselves told you that they don't know shit," Mick said, bringing Len his dinner. "May as well not know shit at home with a nurse as not know shit in a hospital with a doctor."

So she'd moved Barry home.

Len and Mick stuck around. They said it was the least they could do. 

And that's how it was that she was cooking dinner and arguing with Len and Mick over what type of sauce to put on the pasta when Barry woke up, yawned, got out of bed and came into the kitchen, scratching himself in uncomfortable places, saying "I like Uncle Mick's marinara plan, Uncle Len; no one eats ketchup on pasta except you."

Nora shrieks and flings herself at him.

Len and Mick don't, but that's because they're emotionally constipated idiots. They are grinning, though. 

"Welcome back," Len says. 

"You've been driving everyone up the wall, you know," Mick says.

"What happened?" Barry asks. "The man in yellow?"

"No," Nora says. "The Particle Accelerator exploded. You've been in a coma."

"A coma?" Barry yelps. "How long has it been?"

"Fourteen years," Len says promptly. 

"What?!"

"Nine months, BA," Mick says, swatting Len. “You know better to listen to this asshole.”

"Still!" Barry exclaims. "Someone could have had a _baby_ in that time!"

"Speaking of which," Nora says, utterly unable to resist. "Barry, you ought to meet your new baby brother. Mick, could you go get him?"

"Sure thing," Mick says, making to get up.

Barry's spluttering is hilarious. 

"You're all trolls," he grumbles when they all stop laughing. "Trolls, trolls, trolls! Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to run to work to make sure I still have a job."

"You just want to see Officer West," Nora teases. Barry and Iris remained the most adorable thing she’d ever seen, and she’d seen Henry Allen attempting to wear pastels. 

“Maybe,” he sniffs.

“Go, then,” she says. “I’ll make you pancakes.”

“With hot chocolate?”

“And mini-marshmallows,” she promises.

“Say,” Len says. “I don’t suppose –”

“ _Yes_ , you can have some too.”

The hot chocolate development was all his fault, anyway. Barry had been content with just pancakes, before him.

“You’re the best, Mom,” Barry says, and runs off.

Well, he tries to.

They find out about the super speed more or less immediately thereafter.

"Would you consider theft as a viable career alternative?" Len asks. He's positively drooling. 

Barry groans. "I don't know what to do about this," he mutters. "Man, if I hadn't found that nice guy who offered me help -"

Nora's spine goes straight. "What guy?"

"Oh, didn't I mention? There's a guy – he was measuring speed stuff down on the highway and flagged me down - he's totally cool, said he'd be happy to help me figure this out - he works at -"

"No, let me guess," Len says. He's scowling, too. "STAR Labs."

"Yeah! How'd you know?"

"Dr. Wells offered to help take over your care within a month of the explosion," Nora says. "I said no. He kept asking. I said no. He asked to visit. I said no. He tried to go around my back, get info from the hospital. I thought about getting a restraining order, but I figured what the hell; I didn't care that much, especially since I was moving you home the next day. He tried to come visit _here_. I said no. And now that you’re awake, his people are offering you help? Less than a day into you waking up?"

“Suspicious,” Mick agrees.

Barry is gaping. "But - why?" he asks in a small voice. "I like - I liked Dr. Wells. He's a genius - he wrote those books -"

"Supposedly it was because he felt bad about what had happened," Nora says. "But he never offered to help anyone personally - no one but you."

"I went to STAR Labs after the first few times he came around to bug your mom -" Len starts.

"Broke in, you mean," Nora grumbles.

"And it was set up as an infirmary for one person," Len finishes, ignoring her.

"But if he's willing to help with my speed..." Barry starts. 

"Your speed? What about the fact that your clothing lit on fire, BA?" Mick says. "I liked that part."

Nora swats him.

"Cisco - that's the guy I met - he was really nice," Barry says stubbornly. "And they have equipment that can help - stuff that can measure my speed, a treadmill that can handle high speeds, all of that."

"A _treadmill_?" Nora asks, bemused. "What possible use is there for a super-speed treadmill?"

"Measuring a speedster's running speed," Len says. His eyes are narrow. "Barry, do me a favor and run up and down the stairs again?"

"But I like this shirt -"

"Then strip."

Barry begrudgingly does a few laps in his underwear, blurring as he does.

"Interesting," Len says.

"What is?" Barry asks. 

"A treadmill made for super speed is just what we'd need to measure you," Len says.

"Exactly!"

"There was a treadmill already there when I broke in, Barry."

"...so?"

"Weird to have a machine that’s only use is for measuring a speedster’s powers before there’s even a speedster. Maybe you're not the only speedster to come out of STAR Labs," Len says. 

"No - the explosion is what caused -"

"You spark when you run," Len says. "Sparks. I bet if you ran in a circle, it'd come off as lightning. Lightning and whirlwind."

Barry falls silent. "The man in yellow."

Nora's throat is tight. Henry's murderer.

"We always knew he was aiming for Barry," Len points out. "We always knew he was making a plan, a really big plan -"

"Dr. Wells' work on the Particle Accelerator," Barry whispers. "Mom - mom, it started -"

"Within a year of what happened," Nora says, nodding. She's read the biography, too. "But Wells was already an established scientist, and not one we'd ever met before! Why would he care?"

"Only one way to find out," Mick says.

\--

Barry is a terrible liar, of course, but he’s learned enough to get the job done. Cisco Ramon and Caitlin Snow clearly mean nothing but the best – even they talk about how weird it is that their boss seemed totally obsessed with having Barry in his grasp – but Dr. Wells remains abnormally interested in Barry.

Specifically, in Barry’s speed.

"So he's super creepy," Barry says with a sigh. "But nothing yet."

They were out shopping. Grissom - who was still kicking, bless his heart - was having the building swept for bugs again. The electric kind, that is. It happened about twice a month; more, if his radio programs had managed to convince him that the government intended to harvest them all as alien sacrifices to the United Nations or whatnot. Since he'd actually found some bugs in the building a few times, everyone was more than happy to indulge Grissom's paranoia.

The people in 3b, which Nora distinctly suspected of being Family, even insisted on it. 

"We'll figure it out," Nora says. She'd been doing her own brand of fruitless research. Harrison Wells had a solid alibi for the time of Henry's death, but he'd also undergone what could quaintly be termed a radical shift in personality shortly afterwards. Yes, his wife had just died, but the changes were - rather significant, to say the least. 

Len broke into Wells' house a few times to leave bugs of his own, borrowed from an unspecified friend. Nora didn't really want to know. Mick did, in detail, since he hadn't been invited.

Honestly, the sooner Len and Mick got over their little spat for good, the better.

Besides, the bugs hadn't turned up anything that useful yet...

"Is Uncle Len still on for next week?" Barry asks, mind clearly going on lines parallel to hers. 

"He'll be a magnificent supervillain," Nora says drolly. 

"He is the best thief in Central," Barry says, not without pride. "I got to help clean up one of his scenes a while back - right before the whole coma thing - and it was amazing, Mom. Totally slick. Not a trace of useable evidence."

"I wonder how he means to approach it," Nora muses. "Supervillainy and thieving don't seem to be that similar."

She's right: one of them requires subtlety, finesse, and careful planning.

The other involves derailing a train on public television while literally ice-skating away. 

Well, maybe not literally. 

Still, what the _hell_.

"I saved them all," Barry groans, rubbing his face. "But also - ow, ow, ow - that cold gun hurts -"

"Are you seriously hurt?" Nora asks.

"Well, no, not _really_..."

"I'll make you hot chocolate and pancakes for dinner," she offers. "My poor baby."

Barry - who, as she'd suspected, was mostly after being spoiled rotten - beams at her. 

Len comes back to the apartment much later than she would've expected. That little mystery is solved by the way his arm is firmly placed around Mick's waist.

Looks like their little spat was resolved at last, thank god.

And all it took was -

"You gave him a _heat gun_ capable of _what_?!" Nora shouts.

\--

They're almost certain that Wells is the man in yellow, now. They've collected enough evidence to that effect - walking without the wheelchair, for one, and also being in the same house as someone who can move as fast as lightning though the camera is to slow to identify who. But why he keeps toying with Barry isn't clear until the day Barry accidentally travels in time for the first time.

"It all makes sense now," Len crows.

"Would you like to share with the rest of the class?" Barry asks. His head is in Mick's lap; he didn't much appreciate being used as target practice a second time and had demanded at least an hour of Mick's patented guaranteed-to-make-you-feel-better shoulder rubs to make up for it.

"It's time travel!"

"That much we figured out," Nora says dryly.

"No," Len says. "That's why the sequence is off."

Mick is nodding, but that's because he understands everything Len says. Even Lisa looks to him for guidance in understanding what the hell is going on in Len's head.

(One day Nora will figure out how to deal with Lisa. She hadn't really expected to adopt a second child, especially not one who was already out of the house and independent at sixteen, but she can roll with the punches. Barry certainly seems to act as though they've been siblings forever. That had been Len's price, though, and the more she got to know Lisa, the happier she was to pay it. Lisa's a good kid. _Her_ good kid, now, and if that Lewis Snart thinks he can argue otherwise, he'll being going up against the full fury of Nora Allen.)

"Listen," Len says. "A traditional sequence is: boy grows up, boy becomes hero, boy meets mortal enemy, boy fights mortal enemy. Right?"

"Right...?"

"Add in time travel, though, and you can change the order of that. Say, take 'boy fights mortal enemy' and move it back to the beginning."

"Wait," Barry says, alarmed and starting to raise his head only to be shoved back down by Mick. "Are you saying it's my fault?"

"Don't be absurd," Nora says. "It's the fault of the asshole who decided to attack a small child and murder his father."

"Mom! Don't swear!"

Nora shakes her head. She blames Henry for Barry's slightly prudish streak. Or possibly all the time he spend with the Wests...

"But think about it," Len says. "The lightning you described - yellow and red. We know Barry's lightning is yellow. What if this second speedster, the man wearing yellow the same way Barry now wears red, what if his lightning is red?"

"So there were two speedsters that night?"

"Time travel," Len says with satisfaction. "Our Barry - well, no, not _our_ Barry, just _a_ Barry - all grown up and trying to stop the bad guy, and the bad guy - that'd be Wells, whether he is our speedster or if he's just assisting him - was bringing the fight back to when Barry was a kid. That's how Barry ended up so far from the house - the future Barry rescued him."

"But my dad?"

"He must not have died in the original timeline," Len says. "But you still became the Flash. Wells keeps pushing you to go faster - he wants something from you, or more specifically from your speed. That's why the speedster teamed up with Wells or decided to take on Wells' identity; the Particle Accelerator was built remarkably fast for such a big construction project, so the speedster must've helped with it. Wanted to get you back to being the Flash because he needs you up to speed!"

"But why?"

"...no idea," Len concedes. "But let's not find out, shall we?"

"I'm going to call Iris," Barry decides. She'd been the first person he'd informed of his new condition after they'd found out about it; she'd been delighted. Her (their?) other boyfriend, Eddie, worked with Barry on how to properly fight metahuman bad guys within the law, or as much as possible. "I want her input."

"You do that," Mick says, releasing Barry. "We'll plan an ambush."

"What about paradox?" Nora asks. "If Barry doesn't go back, does that mess with the timeline."

"The timeline's already been adjusted, so I don't think so -"

"Wait," Barry says. "Could I go back? Now, I mean? Could I save Dad?"

Len scowls at him. "Kid. I _know_ you've seen and read enough sci-fi for me not to have to tell you why that's a terrible idea."

"Future Barry who saved you probably doesn't exist anymore because his history was so different," Nora says gently. "If you go back and change it, we don't know what might happen. Maybe I die instead of Henry. Maybe we both die. Maybe we all die. Maybe the world ends. There's no way to tell in advance."

"But Mom...it’s _Dad_. I could save Dad!"

"I loved your father," Nora says, thinking of how that voice in her head still sounded like Henry after all these years. "I loved your father so much, baby. But if I knew one thing about him is that he loved you more than anything. He'd look at how you turned out - college grad, CSI, superhero, _happy_ \- and he'd be so proud. So proud. He wouldn't have you risk that for him."

Barry nods mutely and flees to call Iris, but Nora knows her words have sunk in.

It's only when Len hands her a tissue that she realizes she's crying.

_Oh, Henry_ , she thinks. _What a life we led. What a life we could have led, if we'd been together._

\--

The capture of Harrison Wells - née Eobard Thawne, apparently, much to Eddie Thawne's horror - is something of an anticlimax.

Once they confirmed via their cameras that Wells was the speedster rather than just assisting him, Barry picks a moment at random, then sprints and locks Wells into the cell designed to hold a speedster. Then he ties up his friends and calls for help. 

"Sorry, guys," he tells Cisco and Caitlin apologetically. "I can't afford you guys letting him go."

Cisco yells some things through the gag.

"No, trust me on this one, it's not a Bivolo thing. It's a -" he hesitates. "It's a matter of justice."

Eddie comes in and reads Wells his rights. Wells laughs in their faces and confesses everything freely, asking only for a chance to go back to his era using Barry’s speed, dangling a chance to fix Barry’s past in exchange.

“I’ve already decided against that,” Barry says. “You yourself said that time travel generally makes things worse.” 

“I just want to go back to my era, Barry,” Wells says gently. “To go home. That’s not so much to ask.”

"You're guilty of first degree attempted murder and very likely an argument can be made for first degree murder, given how fast speedsters think," Eddie says. "We'll get you a judge and a jury, but as long as we have a place to hold you, you're not going anywhere."

"You're my least interesting ancestor, you know that?" Wells sneers as him. 

"You make me want to consider a vasectomy," Eddie shoots back.

Wells flinches. 

"You will be held here pending trial," Eddie says. "I'll bring the judge here. We won't be taking any chances."

"You knew about the Particle Accelerator," Caitlin says to Wells when she's untied. "You knew the entire time, you knew, you knew what might happen to Ronnie, and you -" She turns away.

Cisco stares at Wells for a long moment before he, too, turns away.

There is a moment of excitement when Wells decides to take advantage of the judge's arrival to try to escape, but as he lunges for her, Len ices him.

"Thank you, Mr. Snart," the judge says, hand on chest.

"No problem, your Honor," he says, holstering the gun. "Let's call that one a clear-cut case of self-defense, shall we?"

"Let's," she agrees. 

And that was that.

Life goes on.

...with superheroes. 

\--

"Now you listen here, young man," Nora Allen says, hands on hips. "If you think you're too old for me to put over my knee, you had _better_ think again."

Savitar squeaks a little. "I - uh - I -"

"Oh no you don't," she says. "No excuses, no justifications, no nothing. God or no God, I'm still _your mother_."

"But -"

"You are coming home with me _this instant_."

"But if I don't kill Iris, I'll never be born!" he yelps, throwing a helpless look at Barry, who's wide-eyed with equally helpless sympathy. 

"You listen to me, Bartholomew Henry Allen -" Nora starts.

"Oh god, it's the _full name_ ," Barry whispers.

"It's been a while," Savitar whispers, equally terrified. 

"Both of you," she amends.

"What did I do?!" Barry squeaks.

"Both of you are going to sit at my table, not make a _single sound_ until I'm done preparing dinner, and we are going to talk over this whole matter like reasonable people having a reasonable conversation over pancakes."

"Wait," Savitar says. "Pancakes? Can I have some hot chocolate, too?"

Nora sighs. "Fine. Hot chocolate with mini marshmallows. But it's conditional on your good behavior. _Both_ of you."

"I don't want to fade into non-existence," Savitar grumbles even as Barry nods. "That shouldn't be debatable."

"Sit!"

"Yes, mom."


End file.
